


Battle of Wills

by Sed



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Uprising
Genre: M/M, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tesler's determination to capture the Renegade evolves into something of an obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle of Wills

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Oft and Winzler at various stages.

White-gloved hands slid over his knees, fingers tight across his thighs as they made their way further up the path of his circuits. Tesler eased forward in his chair, willing the hands higher, groaning softly at the rush of energy, a building daze making itself known as a buzz in his ears. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch, present with every circuit as it lit up in the wake of slender fingers that knew just where to caress, how much pressure to apply.  
  
“Looks like I win again,” the garbled voice announced, and the pleasurable touch ceased.  
  
Tesler’s eyes flew open. He reached down to seize the Renegade’s wrists. “Win? You’ve never won anything. And right now…” he reached for the program’s throat, pulling him up until he had no choice but to straddle Tesler’s lap. “Right now, you’re in no position to claim anything. Least of all _victory_.”  
  
“Is this how you plan to win?”  
  
Tesler chuckled; he pulled the Renegade’s hips over his own, grinding the lithe little body against his lap and leaving no room for misunderstandings between them. “We’ll call it spoils of war.” He reached up to remove the program’s helmet, intent on finally seeing just what lay underneath. He had barely touched it when the smaller program pulled himself away, sliding onto his feet in one swift move that left Tesler grasping at air. “Get back here,” the general commanded. He slammed a fist into the arm of the chair, but the Renegade ignored him.  
  
“I’m not gonna make it easy for you,” the program said. “Did you think I would?”  
  
“Of course not,” Tesler replied with a smirk. “Where’s the fun in that.” He lifted himself from his command chair, stalking over to the program with a predator’s slow determination, watching him back away one step at a time, until his back hit the wall. There was no real chase; they both knew what was going to happen, eventually. It was only a matter of who would give in first.  
  
“Surrender.” He set his hands to the wall on either side of the program’s head, trapping him only as long as he didn’t care to duck out of the way. Instead, the Renegade just laughed, shook his head, and raised his hands.  
  
“What are your terms?” he asked.  
  
Tesler grabbed the program’s shoulders and spun him around, slamming him into the wall and pinning him at the neck with one arm. “No terms this time,” he sneered. His other hand reached around, tracing the wide circle and that damned identifying pattern on his chest. The hot circuits on his hands flared and crackled, and he could feel the Renegade arch away from him in pain, gasping pathetically from behind his mask. “I think it’s time to take that off, don’t you?” His free hand gripped the back of the helmet and squeezed, sending a web of cracks racing in jagged, glowing lines across the outer shell. It shattered and fell to pieces around them, leaving the program exposed, revealed—but Tesler still couldn’t see his face. “Look at me,” he demanded. “Turn and _look at me_.”  
  
“Gonna have to ask nicely,” the young voice taunted. “What’s next?”  
  
“ _This_.” Tesler dug his fist into the front of the program’s suit and tore away a wide strip of fabric, shattering the file and leaving a jagged hole of glowing digital mesh. The T was gone, as well as most of the pattern around it, but that wasn’t enough. He reached lower, hand closing around a telling bulge. He derezzed the fabric, letting it burn away slowly while he listened to the Renegade’s pained hiss. The slender body tightening and tensing against his was almost too tempting to ignore any longer.  
  
The Renegade braced himself with his hands and pushed back harder, taunting, “So what are you waiting for?” as he twitched away from the fingers burning through his suit.  
  
“For you to give up,” Tesler hissed in his ear. His fingers wrapped around hot flesh and he groaned despite himself, too aware of his own arousal to care about the slipup beyond a quick mental kick. “I can wait as long as you can.”  
  
Another slow grind, another push to make a liar of him, and the Renegade laughed. “I don’t think so.”  
  
He was right, the arrogant little shit. With a frustrated growl Tesler reached down to derez the front of his own suit, while at the same time the hand on the Renegade’s cock squeezed and stroked, making the smaller program breathe in a way that had the general struggling to control himself. But he wasn’t going to lose, not again. It only took a moment to divest the Renegade of his suit; a quick swipe of the hand left him exposed from thigh to shoulder, giving Tesler all the space to explore that he could possibly want—for now. All resistance ceased as he moved himself into position, his circuits pulsing as he arched forward; his jaw clenched tight while he watched the quivering body in his arms tense in expectation. One hard push, a quick jerk of the hips, and then—  
  
“General?”  
  
Tesler snapped out of his sleep cycle. His eyes flew open and the room immediately came into focus, momentarily blinding him with bright lines and hard angles reflecting every possible measure of glow the Grid was capable of producing. He shut his eyes again, just to open them on his own terms, but nothing changed. Eventually he remembered that he wasn’t alone. “What?” he snapped, craning his neck to find the program he was already planning to kill.  
  
“Sir, there’s been an attack.”  
  
“Send Paige to deal with it, send sentries, why are you pestering me with something you should be able to handle on your own?” He stood straight and drew himself up to his full height, turning to face the dead man who hadn’t figured out that he should have started running already. Not that it would help. The only program who had ever outrun his reach was the only one stupid enough to keep coming back.  
  
“Commander Paige is already on site, with a full compliment of soldiers, but it isn’t enough. She’s requesting support from the command ship.” The program shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring straight ahead like the far wall was more interesting than anything else in the system.  
  
It wouldn’t be worth the effort to kill him, and it would only delay his orders while he waited for another inept lackey to take his place. “Send a squadron to back her up, and tell her I expect it will be enough,” Tesler commanded. He dropped himself into his chair and propped an arm up on the side, resting his head against the heel of his palm. It was always something; no other city on the Grid had as many problems as Argon, and all because of that damned Renegade. “When you’re done with that,” he said, halting the hapless little program as he made for the safety of the door, “bring me all the surveillance footage you have of the Renegade.”  
  
Research, he told himself as he settled in, a hint of anticipation tickling along his circuits. It was just research.  
  
Preparation. For when he finally had the Renegade in his hands.


End file.
